Watson's Woes 2017
by Pompey
Summary: Welcome to another month of torturing Watson! Answering the daily challenges from the LJ Community Watson's Woes during the month of July. (These stories will be of varying lengths, universes, tones, and ratings. Rating this whole thing as "T" for safety.)
1. July 1 - Lucky

Title: Lucky

Author: Pompey

Universe: RDJ

Rating: PG?

Warnings: Slight departure from the unrealistically minor injuries depicted in the movie.

Word count: 200

Summary: Fate is being kind to Clarky, all things considered.

Prompt: July 1 – Watson injury from a non-Holmes POV.

Clarky thought it was pure luck they had found Watson at all, let alone that he was among the survivors of the exploding processing plant. When they had spotted his hand, for a moment Clarky thought they had discovered nothing but a detached limb. They they had shifted aside the still-smoldering debris and found the rest of the doctor, intact but badly damaged.

There were large blisters already swelling – a few even bursting – along his face, scalp, neck, and hands. The visible skin not burned was bleeding. His clothes were half burned away and what remained was sooty and tattered and loaded with wooden splinters. He breathed in shallow, strained wheezes. And he made no response as they improvised a stretcher with an old horse blanket from the Maria and maneuvered him onto it.

But as lucky as Watson was to be alive, Clarky counted himself equally lucky – that he would not have to be the bearer of tragic news to Holmes (or to Miss Mortan, for that matter); that he was the one to find Holmes so he might give him a chance to evade arrest; and that Lestrade missed Clarky's flouting of his lawful duty by mere seconds.


	2. July 2 - A Study on the Nature of Derm

Title: A Study on the Nature of Dermatological Responses to Varying External Stimuli

Author: Pompey

Universe: BBC Sherlock

Rating: PG

Warnings: MAJOR spoilers for "The Speckled Blonde" (the July 13 entry on the BBC's John Watson blog)

Word count: 766

Summary: John appears to have the same symptoms of poisoning as the Stoner sisters.

Prompt: #2 – summer in the city

* * *

"Sherlock."

The detective kept his attention fixed on John's laptop. Just because John's blog had at least 1,895 hits (likely more, given that it had been stuck on that number for ages now) and his own had less than a hundred was no reason not to update. Surely someone out there – besides himself – needed help differentiating the footprints created by Prada heels versus those created by Chinese fakes.

"Sherlock, I'd like my laptop back. You have your own. Use it."

The words were typical for John given the circumstances but the tone sounded somewhat off. Besides which, it was already mid-morning and these were the first words John had uttered. Sherlock glanced up from his work and commenced observations.

 _Still clad in a tee and pajamas despite the time – fatigue, malaise_

 _One hand bracing against the wall –fatigue again, possible dizziness_

 _Swaying slightly – ditto_

 _Eyes heavy-lidded, dark bags – more fatigue, possible photosensitivity_

 _Face slightly flushed – fever?_

 _Sweat at the hairline – fever, or just summer heat?_

Unease bloomed. It had been just a few since the case of Roylott's poisoned bubble bath, which had claimed the life of Julia Stoner (whom John had dubbed "The Speckled Blonde") and nearly that of her sister Helen as well, until they had intervened. The symptoms of the poisonings had started with fatigue and progressed to red speckles all over the body followed immediately by death.

John hadn't touched the bubble bath. At least, Sherlock didn't think he had. And even if he had, the symptoms wouldn't have appeared so quickly after just a brief contact. Would they? Sherlock frowned, heel prints forgotten.

"Sherlock," John said again, less patiently. "Laptop." He stepped closer.

Sherlock's gaze zoomed in on the small red bumps around the base and sides of John's neck. He shot out of his chair. "How much touched you? And how long were you in contact with it?"

John stared at him, alarmed. "What?"

"The bubble bath, John! How much of it touched you, and for how long? Are you having any other symptoms? When did these start?"

John continued to stare although the alarm was fading. "I never touched Roylott's bubble bath, not even the bottle. I'm not poisoned. I'm just getting a cold. Oy, stop it!"

That last interjection was in response to Sherlock pulling at the neck of his t-shirt, trying to see how far the red dots extended across John's skin. "You have the same speckling that Julia Stoner had."

"It's just a little prickly heat. Get off!" John snapped, swatting Sherlock's hands away. "I was sweating last night. It is July, after all."

The detective folded his arms and tried to glare down his stubborn flatmate. "It probably is just a virus and the rash is probably just prickly heat, as you said, but since we just investigated a case where a woman with the same symptoms died of poisoning, it would be stupid not to take precautions."

"Now you're being paranoid," John said, folding his own arms. "I am a doctor; you didn't delete that fact, yeah? Then trust me - I know a cold when I feel it coming on. I _am_ tired but I'm also getting congested and my throat is starting to hurt. As for the rash . . . " John obligingly tilted his head and lightly pulled at his shirt to give Sherlock a better view. "See how it's made of papules –bumps, that is – with inflammation of the skin around them? Julia Stone's body was covered in flat red dots called petechia. Totally different."

The cold knot of fear in his gut loosened. John was right. They were completely different.

"All right, Sherlock?" asked John.

"Yes." He sat back down and turned back to his monograph in progress. He was not all right, though. Why hadn't he seen the differences in the rashes for himself right away? Why had he allowed his emotional response to completely overtake his reason? The answer was simple: fear for John had caused him to lose all perspective. This was precisely why he tried so hard to maintain a logical outlook at all times. Best to try to lose himself in work as soon as possible, to regain a little equilibrium and at least pretend to himself that this blunder had never happened.

"Sherlock."

He looked up once again from the screen. "What?"

John gave him a look very much like the one he wore during the Great Astronomy Discussion. "My laptop, Sherlock," he said as though speaking to someone exceptionally dim. "You are still using it. I would like it back now."


	3. July 3 - Sticks and Stones

Title: Sticks and Stones

Author: Pompey

Universe: Young Sherlock Holmes

Rating: G

Warnings: spoilers for "Young Sherlock Holmes" (aka "Pyramid of Fear")

Word count: 125

Summary: Young Watson deals with Dudley on his own, after the events of the movie.

Prompt: July 3 – overheard, eavesdropping

* * *

"Who in the world would be reading _Gray's Anatomy_ here?" Despite his whisper, I clearly heard my classmate from behind the shelf of the school library.

"Who do you think?" Dudley replied. " 'I'm going to be a doctor!' I'm going to be a doctor!' " There was a ripple of laughter in response to his falsetto mimicry of me.

"Good Lord, can't he say anything else?" another boy asked.

"Well, with Holmes expelled what else does he have to talk about?" asked the first speaker.

"French pastries?" sneered Dudley and they laughed again as they left.

I blinked hard a few times, then clenched my hands and jaw. Perhaps there was still some of Holmes's chemistry experiment left to drop into Dudley's tea again.


	4. July 4 - Bait

Title: Bait

Author: Pompey

Universe: Elementary

Rating: PG

Warnings: mention of fetishizing cultures

Word count: 100

Summary: Sherlock tries to persuade Joan not to be bait.

Prompt: July 4 – Holmes/Watson in disguise

* * *

Sherlock shook his head. "It's too risky."

Joan applied lipstick, ignoring him. "You think I won't be convincing?"

"I think you'll be too convincing. There are other people besides Greenlee with a fetish for Asian women."

"I am well aware of that," Joan replied tightly.

Sherlock paused, then persisted. "Then you know what you'll be in for. Doesn't it offend you to play into the exotic Asian stereotype?"

"What Greenlee did to the last callgirl offends me more." Joan turned from the mirror, hands on booty-shorts-clad hips. "I will do whatever I have to make sure we get him tonight."


	5. July 5 - Desperate Measures

Title: Desperate Measures

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Word count: 100

Summary: What's a Victorian to do when he doesn't have a notebook handy?

Prompt: July 5 – reminder, note to self

* * *

Watson surreptitiously flipped through the pages of his small notebook. Holmes was already questioning the butler, his fountain pen was filled – all he needed was just one or two clean pages of paper.

Nothing. Not even the cardboard covers of the notebook. At this point his linen cuffs offered more blank surface area.

Watson hesitated for only a moment and started writing. He only wondered, when his notes were no longer needed, what the wisest course of action: confess to Mrs. Hudson and hope that her laundering magic might salvage the cuffs, or concede defeat and simply buy new ones.

* * *

Author's notes: My research says that men's shirt cuffs really did come in cloth versions and disposable paper versions. Presumably paper cuffs were the ones meant to double as notebooks. Fountain pens were common in the late 1800s but they did have a tendency to leak and had to be filled with eyedroppers.


	6. July 6 - Emerald Jubilee

Title: Emerald Jubilee

Author: Pompey

Universe: ACD

Rating: PG

Warnings: depressing

Word count: 150

Summary: The Empire celebrates while Watson

Prompt: July 6 – a character writes poetry

Author's note: I may or may not have stolen the poetry lines from a sonnet I wrote in college. Also, I've taken some creative liberties since Queen Victoria publically celebrated her 50th and 60th anniversaries but not her 55th.

* * *

June twenty-second of 1892 saw my fellow countrymen engaging in somewhat raucous festivities in honor of Her Majesty's fifty-fifth anniversary of her coronation. Though her Emerald Jubilee was a smaller celebration than her Golden Jubilee, it was met with a wave of enthusiasm and joy.

I regret to say that I was not among the revelers. It may have been fifty-five years since our queen was crowned but it was barely over a year since my dearest friend had died. To compound matters, Mary and I had recently suffered the loss of a child that had never had a chance to be born.

As I walked among the light-hearted folk, watching them wave sparklers and set off small fireworks, I mentally composed a bleak little couplet that I knew I would never put to paper:

 _'Tis true that God from those without withholds:_

 _All about me fire and I am cold_.


End file.
